A Shadow in the Glass Episode II: The Fading Light
by Esther Huffleclaw
Summary: "You have grown much since then, Anneke. The Force will help you."
1. Remember What You Have Learned

_A/N: This is Episode II of A Shadow in the Glass. Episode I, 'I'm a Person, and My Name is Anneke!' can be found on my profile page._

_While in canon, Episode II takes place 10 years after Episode I, I have shortened that time as Anneke was much older than 9 in Episode I._

* * *

The sun was setting. Shadows stretched across the city, reaching for the fading light. Anneke's reflection floated before her, superimposed over the Coruscant skyline, a ghost in the glass wall of the elevator she shared with Obi Wan, the elevator that steadily carried her into her past. Her Padawan braid tickled her cheek; she pushed it behind her ear.

"You seem a little on edge, Anneke," her master observed in that unnerving way he had of seeing into her soul.

"I'm fine," she said, though he would know she was lying.

Obi Wan shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "You haven't been this tense since we fell into that nest of gundarks."

She raised an eyebrow. "_You_ fell into that nightmare, Master, and _I_ rescued you. Remember?"

"Ah, yes." He laughed. "That's right. You did." His gaze sharpened, his blue-grey eyes intense. "You're sweating. Relax."

Anneke closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "It has been five years, Master."

"He's not the King anymore." It wasn't surprising that Obi Wan knew it was seeing Padraig again that made her nervous. But it did surprise her that he would think it was because of Padraig's title.

She shook her head. "It's not _what_ he is, but _who_ he is." She folded her arms across her chest. There was no point in trying to hide her feelings from Obi Wan. "I may have had a crush on him." She bit her lip, watching her master's reflection in the glass.

He didn't look surprised. He simply put his hand on her shoulder and met her eyes in the reflection. "You have grown much since then, Anneke. The Force will help you. Remember what you have learned."

She nodded, reaching out for the calming presence of the Force, smiling as it flowed over her.

The door slid open and a shrill voice greeted them: "Obi! Anni!" Jar Jar Binks bounced forward and gripped Obi Wan's hands excitedly.

Obi Wan smiled politely, and Anneke grinned at her master's discomfiture. He had never liked Jar Jar.

With typical enthusiasm, Jar Jar turned and enveloped Anneke in a bear hug.

"Hi, Jar Jar." Anneke drew on the Force to help her breathe. Releasing her as suddenly as he had grabbed her, Jar Jar spun around and led them into another room, chattering the whole way about how he couldn't believe how much Anni had grown.

Two people stood to greet the Jedi as they entered, but Anneke saw only one: Senator Padraig Andelko of Naboo. The years had been kind to him: while he had already been handsome when last they'd met, he had now grown into his arms and legs. He was even taller, and his shoulders were broader, than she remembered. As he turned toward them, the last rays of the setting sun through the windows caught in his dark hair, reflecting gold. He nearly took her breath away. Closing her eyes, she called upon the Force once again to calm her.

Obi Wan inclined his head. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Senator."

Padraig stepped forward and took Obi Wan's hand. "It has been far too long, Master Kenobi. I am glad that our paths have crossed again." He took a deep breath. "But I must tell you that I think your presence here is unnecessary."

"I'm sure the Council had reason to send us."

Padraig waved his hand as if trying to banish an annoying insect. "Chancellor Palpatine thinks I am in danger. There was an attempt on my life earlier today."

Anneke felt her heart drop, and she forgot to breathe. Someone had tried to kill him? For a moment, her vision narrowed and her hands curled into fists at her sides. Drawing on the Force to calm herself again, she consciously relaxed.

He turned away, and Anneke could feel the frustration coming off of him in waves. "I don't want more guards." Catching sight of her, he stopped suddenly. "Anneke?" His voice softened. "You've… grown."

She had thought that the intervening years would change things, and they had, just not in the way she had hoped. Her reaction to him was even stronger than it had been. She tried to speak, but all that came out was, "So have you." Her voice was high, nearly a squeak, and heat rushed to her face.

Obi Wan rescued her by saying, "Our presence will be invisible, Senator."

The other person in the room stepped forward. He was dressed in military garb. "I'm very grateful you're here, Master Kenobi. I'm Captain Typho, head of security. I'm afraid the situation is more dangerous than the Senator will admit."

Padraig spun away from Anneke, his midnight blue cloak swirling around him. "I don't need more security. I need answers. I want to know who is trying to kill me!"

"We're here to protect you, Senator, not to start an investigation," Obi Wan said.

"I'll find out who is trying to kill you, Padraig," Anneke blurted.

She could feel her master's disapproval as he responded, "We will not exceed our mandate, my young Padawan!"

She bowed her head, biting her lip. Though she often frustrated him, Obi Wan rarely rebuked her, especially not in public. Something inside her rose up in response. "Why?" she demanded.

Obi Wan caught her arm, and pulled her away, his voice pitched low enough that the others wouldn't hear. "_What_?" Now she had really crossed the line. He almost seemed angry with her.

"Why else do you think we were assigned to protect him, if not to find the assassin?" she quickly explained. "Protection is a job for security, not for Jedi."

He sighed and looked away, shaking his head. Then, meeting her eyes, he said, "We will do exactly as the Council has instructed."

Ever the diplomat, Padraig offered, "Perhaps with your presence, the mysteries surrounding this threat will be revealed." He gestured toward the table. "Will you join me for a meal?"


	2. Sky Blue

Padraig waited until Obi Wan left with Captain Typho to check on the building's security before he approached Anneke. She was standing by the window, gazing out over the city of Coruscant, idly playing with the fine braid over her right ear. The remainder of her thick sun-coloured hair was caught up in a twist at the nape of her neck, and her Jedi robes flowed around her, teasing him with hints of curves and long limbs.

When he'd first seen her, she'd been covered in grease and he'd still thought she was the prettiest girl he'd ever met. Now she was tall—though still a head shorter than him—and the years of training with the Jedi had toned her muscles and accentuated her natural agility. Everything about her—her movements, her gaze, the way she carried herself—spoke of grace and power.

She turned to face him as he stepped forward, her sky-blue eyes meeting his, and he stopped dead. Everything he had been about to say fled his mind, and his heart began to beat against his ribs. For five years, he had tried to forget the slave girl from Tattooine, telling himself that his memories of her were exaggerated. But she was even more beautiful than he remembered, and she now carried an aura of power and confidence that was nearly irresistible.

Taking a deep breath, he brought his emotions back under control. His throat was tight, and his voice sounded cold and formal to his own ears. "I have a plan to trap the assassin."

She nodded, her eyes cool. "Yes, Senator?"

He had once hoped she might return his feelings, but now it looked like she wanted only to do her job. He pushed back the disappointment. Jedi couldn't have relationships. It was better if she didn't feel anything for him. "How sharp are your Jedi senses?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Though they were alone, he tilted his head toward her, leaning in as if sharing a secret. "If I were to turn off the alarms on my windows, would you know if someone were to break in?"

"Of course." She looked rather offended. "I can sense everything going on in this building."

He nodded, impressed. "Perfect. I will also program my droid to warn you if he detects anything. If this assassin tries again tonight, I believe we can catch him."

She raised an eyebrow. "Him? What makes you think the assassin isn't female?"

"Well…" He fumbled, at a loss for words. "I don't know."

"We females can be anything." She put her hands on her hips and grinned, and he once again forgot what he was talking about.

Gods, but he could drown in that smile! No. He had to keep this professional. Wrenching his eyes away from her, he said, "Yes, of course." He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the floor, the walls, the ceiling, anywhere but at her. "Will your master agree to this plan?"

He could hear the steel in her voice when she replied, "Let me deal with Obi Wan. I want to catch this assassin."

* * *

Padraig sat up suddenly, disoriented. He had slept much longer—and deeper—than he had planned, and he couldn't make sense of the chaos around him. Someone stood over him on his bed; a lightsaber blade flashed past, inches from the skin on his bare chest, and he froze; something flew across the room and hit the wall with a heavy wet thud; and the bed rocked as the figure with the lightsaber stepped off. A second figure crashed through the window, and caught hold of a flying droid; in seconds, he disappeared into the night.

When he could breathe again, Padraig realized it was Anneke who had been standing over him when he awoke, who had attacked something that had been in his bed. She had her back to him now, nudging something on the floor with her toe, her lightsaber still glowing blue by her side. She turned around, and he pulled the sheet up to cover himself, faking a shiver as he realized how ridiculous he looked. Hopefully, she would think he was cold, and not trying to hide like a blushing maiden.

"Stay here!" she ordered him, and she strode from the room. He watched her go, thoroughly speechless. And yet, he couldn't wait to see her again.


	3. Flying

Anneke raced down the stairs, bouncing off walls and ducking around Padraig's pages, security, and hangerson. _Hold on, Obi Wan—I'm coming!_ Bursting from the front door, she leapt into a speeder parked nearby, threw the ignition, and gunned it into the air. Reaching out with the Force, she found Obi Wan struggling to hang onto the probe droid he had caught outside Padraig's window, which was now trying its best to knock him off as they careened through the night.

Sensing Obi Wan's pain through the Force, Anneke grimaced in sympathy. His arms and shoulders were beginning to scream with the pain of holding his weight, and his fingers were losing feeling. She pushed the speeder to its limit, dodging traffic and buildings. Flying on Coruscant was very different from flying on Tattooine, but she had gotten used to it over the past five years, and it was exhilarating.

Opening up her senses, she could feel everything around her, so she knew exactly when to steer up, down, right, or left just in time to avoid the traffic. Pinpointing Obi Wan's location, she also sensed a malevolent presence that appeared to be the droid's destination. Calculating the exact time and place he would fall when his numb fingers finally let go, she was there just before he was, catching him neatly in the passenger seat.

"What took you so long?" Obi Wan asked as he caught his breath.

Raising an eyebrow, she steered toward the presence she had felt earlier. "Oh, you know, Master: I couldn't find a speeder I really liked, with an open cockpit, and with the right speed capabilities, and then of course it had to be the right colour…" She grinned as she spotted the assassin.

An unmistakably female figure aimed a blaster rifle at them from the rooftop directly ahead. Veering to the right, Anneke avoided the shot, then spun back toward the assassin. She couldn't wait to rub this in Padraig's face. The assassin was female just as she had suggested!

Obi Wan snorted. "If you spent as much time working on your saber skills as you do on your wit, young Padawan, you would rival Master Yoda as a swordsman."

The assassin leapt into her speeder and shot away, firing over her shoulder wildly with a blaster pistol. Anneke dodged left, laughing. "I thought I already did."

"Only in your mind, my young apprentice." Obi Wan's knuckles were white where he held onto the frame of the speeder.

"I'm sorry, Master," she said with not a trace of remorse. "I forgot you don't like flying."

"I don't mind flying—" His breath caught as they swerved to miss a commuter train, and his fingers convulsively tightened even more. "What you're doing is more like suicide!"

"Master," she said as if explaining to a child, "you know I've been flying since before I could walk. Relax. You're sweating."

"Just slow down!" He pointed to the right. "There! There he goes!"

_He?_ She rolled her eyes, and followed the assassin's speeder into a tram tunnel.

"Don't go in there!" Obi Wan yelled.

Anneke braked. A tram was coming! She wheeled around and back out the way they had come, avoiding a crash by inches. "Remember what Master Yoda says about fear." Anneke grinned at the look on her master's face.

"I am not afraid," he replied breathlessly. "I simply have a strong sense of self-preservation."

"Don't worry, Master. I know what I'm doing." Anneke guided the speeder up and over the tunnel, spotting the assassin's vehicle entering a stream of traffic. Anneke gunned the engine, and dropped into the traffic right next to their quarry, who immediately turned and fired her pistol at Obi Wan.

He ducked just in time. "What are you _doing_?" he demanded.

"Sorry, Master." Anneke dropped the speeder below the assassin's line of sight, then came up underneath. The assassin promptly skimmed low overtop a building, forcing the Jedi to drop back.

"Watch out for those banners!" Obi Wan cried. A row of flags loomed up before them, and the speeder clipped one, ripping it from its moorings. It flapped against the right front airscoop, blocking the intake, and they began to slow.

"Clear that!" Anneke yelled. "We're losing power!"

Obi Wan gave her an incredulous look. "What?"

"Clear the flag! Hurry!" She struggled to pull every ounce of speed from the engines she could, watching the assassin slowly widen the gap between them.

Holding on with one hand, Obi Wan leaned out over the side but couldn't quite reach the flag. Gritting his teeth, he climbed out of the seat onto the hood, and pulled it free. Instantly, the speeder surged forward, throwing him flat. "Anneke! Don't do that!"

She allowed herself a snicker at his reaction. "So sorry, Master." She held the speeder steady until he was safely back in his seat, then shot up to the right over a building.

"Where are you going?" Obi Wan demanded. "He went that way." He pointed down to the left.

Anneke sighed. "Master, if we keep this chase going, that creep's going to end up deep-fried. Personally, I'd very much like to find out who she is and who she's working for." She shrugged. "This is a shortcut. I think."

He raised an eyebrow. "You _think_? What do you mean, you _think_?"

Anneke said nothing, focusing on the assassin's presence in the Force. As they cleared the roof, she came to a stop just above where their quarry would emerge.

Obi Wan folded his arms, surveying the traffic around them. "You lost him."

Calculating exactly when the assassin would emerge, Anneke replied absently, "I'm sorry, Master."

Shaking his head, he continued, "This is some shortcut. He went _completely_ the other way—"

"Excuse me for a moment," Anneke interrupted. She vaulted over the side of the speeder, falling several stories to land on the assassin's speeder, right behind the enclosed cockpit. She fumbled for her lightsaber with one hand while holding on with the other. Activating the blade, she cut a hole in the glass canopy over the speeder's cockpit. The assassin turned and fired her blaster pistol and Anneke barely blocked it without losing her grip on the speeder. She did, however, lose her grip on her lightsaber, and it fell spinning into the night. "Ah, frack it," she muttered, and reached out with the Force to snatch the assassin's pistol from her hand before she could fire again. "Obi Wan is going to kill me."

The assassin grabbed for her pistol, and lost control of the speeder. It careened out of control, slipping into a nosedive. Anneke dropped the pistol, and it followed her lightsaber down into the depths. Grumbling under her breath, she tried to pull herself into the cockpit, but the assassin swung at her with one hand while trying to regain control of the speeder with the other. They started to level out, then the street came up to meet them.

The impact with the pavement sent Anneke flying.


	4. Just a Job

Shaking her head to clear it, Anneke picked herself up off the pavement. Ignoring the pain of her bumps and bruises, she pulled the Force around her and sought the assassin. The wreckage of the speeder lay crumpled to her left, adding to the trash that lay all around. She spotted the armour-clad assassin running down the street to her right, and gave chase.

It was very difficult to maneuver through the crowds in this area. Anneke had never been to this part of Coruscant before, but usually her Jedi garb was enough to cause people to get out of her way. Not here. People blocked her, bumped into her, and even grumbled and growled at her for being in their way. The uncaring crowds, the seedy businesses, reminded her of Mos Eisley, yet damper. Broken sidewalks cradled puddles of filthy liquid that might be water, and multi-coloured neon lights reflected garishly back and forth from either side of the street.

Half a block ahead, the assassin ducked into a doorway. The sign over the opening flashed an invitation to those looking for alcohol, dancing, or less savoury delights. Anneke didn't hesitate, though she had never entered such an establishment before. But just as she reached the door, Obi Wan stepped out of the crowd and caught her arm.

"Anneke! Use the Force. Think. He went in there to hide, not run."

"Sorry, Master." Anneke bit her lip, trying not to fidget. The adrenaline coursing through her made it hard to stand still.

Obi Wan pulled a familiar lightsaber from his pocket. "Next time, try not to lose it."

Anneke's eyes lit up, and she reached for her weapon.

Obi Wan pulled it back. "A Jedi's saber is his most precious possession."

Anneke sighed. "Yes, Master."

"It must be kept with you at all times."

With an effort, she didn't roll her eyes. "I know, Master."

He held it out toward her. "This weapon is your life."

She grabbed it. "I've heard this before, Master."

His eyes bored into her. "But you haven't learned it yet."

She clipped her lightsaber to her belt. "I try, Master."

Obi Wan sighed, and turned to enter the nightclub. "Why do I have the feeling you're going to be the death of me?"

Anneke blinked, her defiance dissolving. "Don't say that, Master. I'd never want to cause you pain."

"Then why don't you listen to me?"

She could feel the frustration like a cloud around him. "I am trying."

He sighed and shook his head, turning to survey the crowd inside. "Can you see him?"

"I've been trying to tell you, Master. He's a _she_." Anneke raised herself on tiptoe, peering over the patrons' heads.

"I see." Obi Wan nodded. "In that case, go and find her." He turned away.

Anneke dropped back onto her heels and frowned at him. "Where are you going, Master?"

Obi Wan grinned at her over his shoulder. "For a drink."

She stood, bemused, watching him approach the bar and order a drink. Shaking her head, she turned and walked through the room, her hand on her saber hilt, her eyes scanning the patrons. Most of them glared at her, while a few smiled in a way that deeply disturbed her. She swept the room with her senses, searching for the malevolent presence she had felt before.

There she was! The assassin's unmistakable signature was approaching Obi Wan, and Anneke quickly made her way back to her master's side, ignoring those who continued to eye her. As she reached Obi Wan, he spun around and grabbed the assassin's arm, twisting until she grunted in pain and dropped the pistol she held.

Obi Wan nodded at Anneke, and she took hold of the assassin's other arm. Between them, they marched her out into the street.

Steering them into an alleyway, Obi Wan stopped out of sight of the passersby. "Who are you?" he asked the assassin.

She stared at him through narrowed eyes. "Zam Wesell." Her tone implied they should have heard of her.

"Do you know who it was you were trying to kill?" he demanded.

"The senator from Naboo."

"Who hired you?" Anneke asked.

Zam shifted her dark-eyed glare to Anneke. "It was just a job," she replied.

Anneke unclipped her lightsaber from her belt and activated the blade. "Tell us!"

Zam eyed the lightsaber warily. "It was a bounty hunter named—" Her eyes widened, she fell back and slid down against the wall, and stopped breathing.

The sound of a small rocket engine taking off drew both Jedi's eyes to a nearby roof, where an armoured man with a jetpack on his back saluted them—or possibly Zam—as he flew away.

Crouching over the body, Obi Wan pulled a tiny dart from the side of Zam's neck. "Poison," he said grimly.

Anneke jumped to her feet. "Come on! Let's go after him!"

Obi Wan raised his eyebrows, looking up at her from where he crouched on the dirty pavement. "We have to check in with the Council, and we have to get back to Senator Andelko's quarters to make sure he's still safe."

She sighed in defeat and put her lightsaber away, her fists clenched at her sides as she watched the armoured man disappear over the Coruscant skyline.


	5. Do You Want Her or Not?

Padraig sat on the edge of the chair in the spacious office, his hands clasped on his knees. When he had heard that Padawan Anneke Skywalker was to escort him back to Naboo, he had contacted his old mentor. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Chancellor."

Palpatine tutted. "Come now, Padraig. We've known each other for way too long to stand on ceremony."

"Of course, Palpatine. I apologize." It felt strange to use his personal name now that he was Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Senate, regardless of their shared history.

"Now," Palpatine said, leaning back in the luxurious chair behind his desk, and clasping his hands across his stomach. The huge pane of glass behind him set his face in shadow and his grey hair caught the light and made a halo around his head. When had he gotten so old? "What can I do for you?"

Padraig shifted in his chair, unsure of how to start. "Do you remember the war five years ago, when the Trade Federation blockaded Naboo?"

Palpatine nodded. "Of course. That was when I was elected."

"Right. Yes." Padraig picked at the hem of his tunic, studying the grey carpet. "Just before the war, I ended up on an outer rim planet—Tattooine—and the Jedi with me discovered a Force-sensitive and brought her back to the Temple."

Palpatine raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

Padraig bit his lip, focusing on the strip of dark red wall above the window. "She's been assigned to protect me now and… I can't stop thinking about her." He met Palpatine's eyes. "I think I'm in love with her."

Palpatine blinked, then smiled, leaning forward with his elbows braced on the polished dark grey surface of his desk. "But that's wonderful. When can I meet this girl?"

Padraig shook his head. "You don't understand. Jedi aren't allowed to have romantic attachments."

"Well, that hardly seems fair." Palpatine stood and paced along the windowed wall, his hands draped behind his back, shaking his head slowly. He stopped and turned to face Padraig. "Do you truly love her?"

Padraig nodded helplessly.

Palpatine's eyes bored into him. "What are you willing to do for her?"

Padraig took a deep breath. "Anything."

Nodding in satisfaction, Palpatine turned away. "Good. Good. I will help you."

Padraig blinked. "What—?"

Palpatine spun around, his laser gaze pinning Padraig again. "Do you want her or not?"

Padraig straightened his shoulders. "Yes. But the Jedi Council—"

"You let me worry about the Jedi Council," Palpatine said. He put his hand on Padraig's shoulder. "I just want you to be happy, my young friend."

* * *

The Starfreighter was huge, its hold filled with many people who didn't have the credits to travel more luxuriously. The noise and smell of so many beings was almost overwhelming at times, though right now most were sleeping. It was the last place assassins would think to look for the former King of Naboo and his Jedi protector.

Padraig sat on the floor next to Anneke's sleeping form, the rumble of the engines and his thoughts keeping him awake. The vote coming up in the Senate on the Military Creation Act—he did wish he could be there to help defeat it!—and the personal danger he was constantly in these days were nearly always at the forefront of his mind, but Anneke was right there, a strand of hair straggling across her forehead. He had an urge to brush it back, but didn't want to wake her. She looked so peaceful, completely comfortable lying on the floor with her head pillowed on her pack.

Wrapping his arms around his knees, Padraig turned to survey the other travellers. Not that he had any interest in them, but it felt wrong to watch Anneke while she slept; it felt like an invasion of privacy. Of course, there was precious little privacy on this tub, but still.

"No," Anneke mumbled, and Padraig turned back toward her. She was still asleep, but no longer peaceful. Her brow was furrowed and she shook her head back and forth. "No! Mom!" She thrashed her arms as if trying to escape the blanket he had thrown over her when she first drifted off. "No…!"

Padraig put his hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. Leaning over, he said, "Anneke? Wake up!"

Her eyes flew open, and she half sat up, looking wildly about her. Then she fell back against her pack, and threw her arm over her eyes.

"Are you all right?" Padraig hadn't taken his hand from her shoulder—didn't want to do so. "You were—you seemed to be having a nightmare."

From behind her shielding arm, Anneke mumbled, "I'm fine."

Padraig sat back, letting his hand fall to the floor beside him. She wasn't fine, but she obviously didn't want or need his comfort. "We went to lightspeed while you were sleeping."

Anneke lowered her arm, calm once again. "I'm looking forward to seeing Naboo again. It's the most beautiful place I've ever seen."

Padraig smiled, remembering his home. "It may not be as you remember it," he warned her. "Time changes things."

"Sometimes," Anneke agreed, her eyes meeting his. "Sometimes for the better."

Padraig shivered a little at the intensity in her eyes. There was something about a Jedi's gaze that seemed like they could see into your soul. He swallowed and looked away.

She reached out and laid her hand on his arm. Through the thin fabric of his tunic sleeve, her touch was almost too warm.

Padraig's eyes snapped up to meet hers as if he were compelled. For a moment, caught in her gaze, he couldn't breathe. Palpatine's question came back to him: 'Do you want her or not?' Oh yes, he wanted her. But did she want him?


	6. Missing Out

Anneke took a deep breath of the clean, flower-scented air of Naboo. She hadn't realized until this moment how much she had really missed this planet. Across the great courtyard, the blue-green domes of the palace shimmered in the sunlight, and the soft sound of waterfalls filled the air with music.

Anneke closed her eyes and sighed. "If I had grown up here, I don't think I would ever leave."

Padraig smiled. "Really?"

Anneke raised an eyebrow. "I didn't dream of power and politics as a child like you did."

"What?!" Padraig shook his head, laughing. "That was the last thing I thought of. I never dreamed I'd one day live in the palace." His eyes took on a faraway look. "But the more history I studied, the more I realized how much good politicians can do." He shook his head again. "I must sound very arrogant."

"Not at all," Anneke said quietly. "The people thought you did a good job. I heard they tried to amend the Constitution so you could stay in office."

He bent to pick up their luggage, but Anneke snagged her bag before he could. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Truthfully, I was relieved when my two terms were up. I've missed out on having a personal life." He sighed. "Yet, when Queen Jamillia asked me to serve as Senator, I couldn't refuse."

A personal life. Something both of them had missed out on. "The Republic needs you," she said.

He nodded. "Perhaps."

* * *

Padraig's family was warm and welcoming, yet Anneke felt out of place. Sitting at the table in their cozy home, she watched in bemusement as Padraig's mother Jobal and older sister Sola bustled about. She suddenly missed her own mother so much it was nearly a physical pain.

"You're just in time for dinner," Padraig's mother, said as she placed a steaming bowl of colourful vegetables on the table. It smelled amazing. "I hope you're hungry, Anneke."

"A little," Anneke admitted.

Padraig hugged his mother. "She's being polite, Mom. We're starving."

"You've come to the right place." Jobal waved everyone to the table, and began to serve them. Anneke took the seat to Padraig's left, where she had an unobstructed view of the door and windows.

Sola accepted a plate of food while grinning across the table. "Do you know, Anneke, you're the first girlfriend my brother's ever brought home?"

"Sola!" Padraig protested. "She's a Jedi assigned by the Senate to protect me." Anneke was interested to note the blush that quickly spread over his face.

Jobal's face stilled, and she put her hand on her son's arm. "A bodyguard? We didn't know it was that serious."

Padraig put his hand over his mother's. "It's not, Mom. I promise." He smiled reassuringly at her. "Besides, Anneke's a friend. Remember the blockade crisis?" He turned to Anneke. "This is the girl from Tattooine. She's a Jedi now."

"Yes, I remember that," Jobal said quietly. "Haven't you had enough of danger yet, Paddy?"

"Mom," he said, squeezing her hand, "I'm not in any danger."

Jobal leaned around her son, pinning Anneke with her gaze. "Is he?"

"Yes." Anneke avoided Padraig's glare. "I'm afraid he is." She laid her fork down, suddenly no longer hungry.

"Anneke is very good at what she does," Padraig told Jobal. "I'll be fine."

* * *

Padraig leaned back in his chair, sighing in contentment. He had missed his mother's cooking, but he had forgotten how easy it was to eat way too much. As Jobal and Sola began to clear the table, he stood to help.

Sola nudged his shoulder as they entered the kitchen, both laden with armsful of dishes. "Why haven't you told us about her, Pad?"

"What's there to tell?" He set his armload on the counter, then looked out the window, pretending interest in the view.

"Have you seen the way she looks at you?"

"Sola, stop it." He meant to sound sharp, but instead his voice was resigned. "Our relationship is strictly professional."

Sola grabbed his arm, pulling him around so he was forced to look at her. "Are you saying you haven't noticed?"

He met her eyes. "She's a Jedi, Sola. That's all she's ever wanted."

"And what do _you_ want, little brother?"

He closed his eyes for a moment. "It doesn't matter what I want. I have an important job to do."

Jobal stepped forward from where she had been standing in the doorway. "It's time you had a life of your own, Paddy." She took his hands in hers. "You're missing so much."


	7. Look Into the Glass

As his family's lake lodge came into view across the water, Padraig caught a soft gasp from his companion. He turned in his seat in the narrow water speeder to see Anneke staring in wonder at the building nestled in the trees. The two levels of the house, both topped with greenish, weathered domed roofs, peeked through the thick, lush greenery. He smiled, remembering holidays here as a child—how he had loved this place!

When the water speeder pulled up to the stone dock, Anneke leapt lightly from the small craft and strode the length of the pier, her dark cloak swirling around her. How could she stand to wear that in this weather? Already, loose curls that had escaped her bun were sticking to the nape of her neck.

Padraig alighted and thanked the speeder pilot, then followed Anneke up the moss-covered stone staircase, watching the way her head kept turning back and forth, her eyes flickering over the lake, the distant mountains, and the Andelko family lodge ahead. Was she admiring the view or looking for danger? He found himself hoping for the former, though it was probably the latter.

When he had suggested they come here, the remoteness of this location had appealed to their need for safety. If he was being honest, though, the thought of being alone here with Anneke also appealed to him on a different level. For the first time, there would be no family, friends, or duties to interrupt them, and he found he was looking forward to it and dreading it in equal parts.

Anneke paced the circumference of the terrace at the top of the stairs, then stopped at the balustrade, gazing out over the sparkling waters of the lake. A gentle breeze played with her hair and billowed her cloak around her legs. Padraig couldn't tear his eyes from her.

"My family used to come here on holidays," he said to break the silence. He leaned against the railing next to her. "See that island? We used to swim out there every day."

"There's so much water here." Anneke's voice was soft, nearly awed. Of course, being from a desert planet, this much water would seem unreal to her.

He watched as a lock of hair behind her ear curled in the humid air. "We would lie on the sand to let the sun dry us, and try to guess the names of the birds we heard singing."

She shook her head just a bit. "I don't like sand. It's coarse and rough, and it gets _everywhere_."

"There was a very old man who lived on the island." Padraig lifted his hand, then dropped it at his side and took a deep breath. "He used to make glass out of sand—and vases and necklaces out of the glass. They were magical."

Anneke turned her head and smiled at him, a brilliant smile that took his breath away. "Everything here is magical."

He was caught in her gaze, hardly able to breathe. His voice was little more than a whisper. "You could look into the glass and see the water, the way it ripples and moves. It looked so real… but it wasn't."

"Sometimes," Anneke said softly, "if you believe something is real, it can become real."

"I used to think that if you looked too deeply into the glass, you would lose yourself." He was going to lose himself in her eyes. A strand of hair slipped over her forehead and he reached out without thinking to tuck it back behind her ear. Shocked at his own forwardness, he pulled his hand away as if burned. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

Turning on his heel, he strode into the house, blood rushing into his cheeks. What would she think of him now? He was acting like a lovestruck boy!

* * *

Anneke watched Padraig leave, her heart racing. There was no way to misinterpret the look in his eyes, or what she had felt through the Force. He was falling in love with her—or already in love with her—but he fought it. Of course he fought it. Neither of them were free to fall in love. No matter that he loved her; no matter that she loved him—she loved him. The realization stopped her dead.

She loved him. It was not a crush or infatuation. Searching her feelings, she knew it to be true. Could something so beautiful, so wondrous, be wrong?

_There is no emotion; there is peace_. Attachment was forbidden, yet compassion was central to the life of a Jedi. And wasn't compassion truly unconditional love? How could love be wrong?


	8. Negotiations

Padraig locked himself in his room until dinner was served and, when he joined Anneke at the table, he couldn't look at her. He had made a fool of himself, and he didn't want to see the derision—or worse: pity—that would surely be in her eyes. An awkward silence reigned over the table.

Padraig was relieved when dessert was finally brought out. This interminable meal was nearly over. He reached for a piece of fruit, and it skidded across his plate, evading him. He stared at it, blinked, then raised his eyes from his plate. Anneke had changed into much more practical loose light brown robes. Her gaze was demurely on her own plate, seeming oblivious to his stare, and her fruit was inert, as fruit should be.

Padraig opened his mouth, to say something, thought better of it, and dropped his gaze. He reached for the fruit again, and again it slid away from him. He wasn't imagining it. He snapped his head up, trying to catch her in the act, but she was still fixated on her own plate. "Why are you doing that?" he demanded.

She looked up, her eyes wide, and just a shade too innocent. "What?"

He narrowed his eyes, and grabbed at the fruit. It jumped completely off his plate to hover in the air between them. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she laughed.

The fruit did a barrel-roll in midair, then swooped toward Anneke. She lifted a hand and caught it easily. "If Master Obi-Wan caught me doing this, he wouldn't be pleased."

Padraig set his elbows on the table, and rested his chin on the backs of his hands. "Why is that?"

She picked up her tableknife, cut a slice off the fruit, and sent it soaring back toward him. "This is a 'frivolous' use of the Force."

He plucked the slice from the air. "Aren't you allowed to have fun?"

She cut another slice for herself. "That depends on your definition of 'fun.' Personally, I find fun in diplomatic missions that descend into aggressive negotiations."

He raised an eyebrow, swallowing a bite of fruit. "'Aggressive negotiations'?"

She grinned slyly, looking up at him through her lashes. "Negotiations… with a lightsaber."

He laughed. "There are times I wish I had that option."

"You could always call me in to assist," she suggested, an impish twinkle in her eye.

"Now, there's an idea." He grinned at the mental image. Most of his political opponents would turn into blubbering heaps if facing down a lightsaber. Of course, it wasn't anywhere close to ethical, but it sure would be fun.

* * *

After dinner, Anneke followed Padraig into the sitting room where a fire flickered behind a grate, warming the large, open space. It cooled quickly here at night, and she was surprised to find that the warmth was welcome against the damp chill.

She was delighted that her ploy to bring Padraig out of his funk had worked. While he was sulking in his room, she had explored the house and grounds to get the lay of the land, but she had been jumpy and distracted, remembering his touch. Now that he was speaking to her again, the relief was incredible.

Being near him was intoxicating. For five years, she had tried to forget him, tried to tell herself that the feelings she had were a silly crush and no more. But he was in her heart, in her soul. What was she supposed to do?

Padraig sat on a stool near the fireplace, and stared into the flames. His profile, framed by firelight, drew her attention—his shadowed eyes, the strong line of his jaw, his expressive mouth. Her gaze lingered on his lips, and he looked up as if he sensed it. Heat rushed to her face, and she turned away to hide it. She hadn't felt this flustered since she stood before the Jedi Council trying to convince them to allow her to be a Jedi. And even then, she had felt more confident than she did now.

Padraig's hand on her shoulder startled her; she turned and looked into his intense brown eyes, and her breath caught. He was so close she could feel the heat of his body, nearly as warm as the fire. His gaze probed hers, searching for something.

He bent his head toward her, and she froze. She should pull away—but she couldn't, didn't want to. His lips brushed gently over hers, and a thrill surged up her spine. He placed his other hand on her other shoulder, and somehow her hands were tangled next to each other in the soft fabric of his shirt over his heart—she didn't remember how that had happened.

He lifted his head, and stared in wonder at her. "Gods, Anni," he whispered, his voice hoarse. He shook his head helplessly.

Her childhood nickname on his lips sent another shiver through her. The room spun around her, and only her grip on his shirt and his hands on her shoulders anchored her.

He took a shaky breath. "Tell me to let you go and I will. It may tear me apart, but I will do anything you ask."

She shook her head. "You're asking me to be rational… but I can't."

His grip on her shoulders tightened. "Then you do feel something!"

She met his eyes and shook her head, laughing a little. "I thought politicians were better at reading people than that, Padraig."

His eyes wide in disbelief, he stared at her. "You could be expelled from the Order."

"I don't care."

He took a step back, dropping his hands from her shoulders, and took hold of her hands as if to extricate her fingers from where they were knotted in his shirt. "I can't let you give up your dreams—your future—for me."

His hands were so warm where they covered hers. She stepped forward, closing the distance he had created between them. "It's my future, Padraig. It's my choice."

He groaned and closed his eyes. "What can we do?" His eyes flickered open, a sudden hope flaring to life within their depths. "Palpatine! He will help us!"

She frowned. "The Chancellor? Why would he do that?"

Padraig's hands tightened on hers, his face aglow. "We've been friends for years, and he told me he would do whatever he could to see me happy." He bent his head, smiling into her eyes. "Nothing could make me happier than to be with you."


	9. The Darkening Sky

Padraig woke suddenly, his heart racing. The moonlight slanting through the window of his bedroom told him it was still too early for the servants to be up to start their day. Yet something had woken him. He rolled onto his back and tried to quiet his breathing and the pounding of his heart. There! It was Anneke's voice, faint through the wall, yet clearly in distress.

He sat up on the edge of his mattress, reaching for the warm dressing gown that hung over a chair by the bed. The nights here could be chilly, and the stone walls and floors of the house stored little heat this late. He stood up, tying the belt around his middle, when he heard the unmistakable sound of the door that led from Anneke's room to the terrace. He made his way to his own terrace door, and opened it softly.

Anneke stood in the centre of the terrace, her back to the doors, hands clasped loosely behind her, face tilted toward the sky where the first hint of dawn's light was just visible. A playful breeze fluttered the hem of her shirt and the braid over her right ear. She was meditating. Padraig turned to go, not wanting to intrude.

"Don't go."

He turned back; she hadn't moved. "I don't want to disturb you."

"Your presence is soothing." Her voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of tension.

He took a step toward her. "You had a nightmare."

"Jedi don't have nightmares." Her response was quick—too quick.

"I heard you." He took another step; he was now close enough to reach out and touch her, but he wasn't sure he should. "It was about your mother, wasn't it?"

She flinched—just slightly. "How did you know?" Her voice was so soft, he barely heard her.

"You had another one on the transport, on the way here. You were calling out in your sleep about your mother." He had felt helpless then, just as he did now.

She turned her head, and he was shocked at the fear in her clear blue eyes. "It was more than a dream. I saw her as clearly as I see you now. She is suffering, Padraig." Her eyes filled with tears. "I think she's dying."

He put a hand on her shoulder, feeling less than powerless in the face of her pain. She moved toward him, her arms sliding around him, and he pulled her close. She hid her face in his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"I have to go," she said. "I'm sorry, Padraig. I know have a mandate to protect you, but I have to help her. I don't have a choice."

"I'll go with you," he said immediately, glad to have something he could do to help her. "That way you won't be disobeying your mandate."

She pulled back just enough to look up at him. Her eyes, swimming in tears, shone with gratitude. "Oh, Padraig. Thank you."

How did she not know that he would do anything for her?

She bit her lip. "But… what about Master Obi Wan?"

"I guess we won't tell him, will we?"

She smiled at him through her tears, and he told himself it wasn't appropriate to kiss her just now. No matter how much he wanted to.

* * *

The last time Padraig had been on Tatooine, in this exact junk shop, was the first time he had seen Anneke. He had been a King then, pretending to be a servant, and she had been a slave. This time, she looked the part of an offworlder, in her long, dark Jedi robes. Even the old Toydarian who used to own her didn't recognize her. She didn't belong here, not anymore.

Anneke stood under the awning outside the front door, speaking to the Toydarian in a guttural language Padraig guessed was Huttese. It was a language he had never had cause to study, so he took the opportunity to study her. She had changed much—once, she would have feared the pathetic creature she now spoke to as an equal.

Anneke turned back toward him, and Padraig felt his face heat, embarrassed to be caught staring at her; hopefully she would think the colour in his cheeks was caused by the suns.

"He says he sold her." Anneke's tone was flat. "He's going to check his records to see who bought her."

Padraig nodded, squinting against the suns. The Toydarian had disappeared into the bowels of the junk shop; it looked as if it might collapse at any moment. The years had not been kind to this place.

A few minutes later, he re-emerged with a printout. After another exchange in Huttese, Anneke strode back toward Padraig. "A moisture farmer bought her—name of Lars. Rumour is, he freed her and married her." There was a note of hope in her voice. "I have the address here."

"Let's go," Padraig said.

* * *

The twin suns were dipping toward the horizon as Anneke and Padraig approached the moisture farm. Anneke found her steps quickening as she crossed the sand toward the mud-brick building that was home for the farmer and his family. A young man and woman in rough homespun came out to greet them.

Anneke made herself stop, though she wanted to run and find her mother. "I'm Anneke Skywalker. I'm looking for my mother."

The young man nodded, his eyes shadowed. "I'm Owen Lars. This is my girlfriend Beru. I guess I'm your stepbrother."

Anneke gritted her teeth, impatient with the civilities. "Is my mother here?"

Owen and Beru exchanged glances. "No, she's not," Owen said slowly.

Anneke opened her mouth to demand they tell her where in all the hells she _was_, but she was interrupted by the arrival of a much older man in a floating chair, one leg heavily bandaged, the other missing altogether.

"Cliegg Lars," he offered. "Shmi is my wife. Come on inside. We have a lot to talk about."

Inside? She was about to refuse, to insist they tell her everything right _here_, but Padraig's hand on her arm gave her pause.

"We would be delighted to accept your hospitality," he said.

* * *

Beru brought a tray of drinks to the table where Anneke reluctantly sat with Padraig and Cliegg. The way the Lars family was acting, she _knew_ there was something wrong, was almost ready to accuse them of being complicit in whatever had happened to her mother. And something had definitely happened.

Cliegg took a sip from the mug of steaming ardees. "Your mother had gone out early, like she always did, to pick mushrooms that grow on the vaporators," he said softly. "From the tracks, she was about halfway home when they took her." His voice rose in anger. "Those Tuskens walk like men, but they're vicious, mindless monsters. Thirty of us went out after her." His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "Four of us came back. I'd be out there with them now, only... after I lost my leg I just couldn't ride anymore—not until I heal." He adjusted his remaining leg with a grimace. "I don't want to give up on her, but she's been gone a month. There's little hope she's lasted this long."

Anneke stared at him in disbelief. Sometime while he was talking, a buzzing had started up in her head, and now a fire was rushing through her veins. She stood, turning toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Owen stood before her as if he would stop her.

"To find my mother." A fearsome power surged through her, greater than anything she had ever felt before. She clenched a fist on the white-hot energy. It would be so easy to toss him out of her way—like flicking a insect.

Owen stepped aside. "Take my speeder bike," he offered.

She nodded in thanks, and went back outside. The suns had set and the moons were just visible in the darkening sky. As she approached the speeder bike, she sensed Padraig following her. "Stay here," she said, turning to face him. "You'll be safe here."

He reached for her, and she went into his arms, but only for a moment. The comfort of his embrace was tempting, but she didn't have time to indulge herself. She turned away from the worry in his eyes and threw a leg over the bike. "I won't be long," she promised.

She could sense him watching her until she was out of sight.


	10. The Fire in Her Veins

Crouched behind a hut of dried skins, in the middle of the Raiders' camp, Anneke unclipped her lightsaber from her belt and activated the blade. The sense of her mother's pain had grown stronger and stronger until she had arrived here, and she knew without doubt that this was where Shmi was held captive. She had snuck into the camp, hiding in the shadows as she made her way to this hut—though a part of her wanted simply to cut a swath through the bodies between her and her mother.

By the light of her saber and the three moons, she cut a hole in the stretched hide that made up the back wall of her mother's prison and slid inside. Candles flickered in the gloom inside, lighting the form of Shmi Skywalker where she was bound to a wooden frame, hanging upright in the centre of the hut.

Letting her saber fall to the floor, Anneke rushed to her mother's side and untied the leather thongs that held her to the rough wooden slats. Shmi's body fell bonelessly into Anneke's arms—she was so light!

Gently lowering her to the floor, Anneke sat and cradled her mother's head in her lap. If not for her Jedi senses, she wouldn't know if Shmi lived; her breathing was so shallow it was almost indiscernible. She was covered in so much dirt and blood it was impossible to tell how badly she was injured. Anneke didn't realize she was crying until the tears spilled over and splashed on her mother's face.

Shmi's eyelids fluttered, then her eyes slowly opened, fastening on her daughter's face. "Anni…? Is that you…?" Her voice was a rasping whisper.

A choked gasp escaped Anneke. "I'm here, Mom. You're safe. Hang on. I'm going to get you out of here."

Shmi lifted her hand and touched Anneke's cheek with trembling fingers. "I'm so proud of you, Anni... So proud... I missed you so much…"

Anneke caught her mother's hand and cupped it against her cheek. "Just stay with me, Mom. I'm going to make you well again. Everything's going to be fine." Her voice broke.

Shmi smiled. "I love…" Her voice trailed off, and her body went limp in Anneke's arms. Her eyes rolled back, staring as her head fell to the side. The pain that had been a constant in Anneke's senses for so long disappeared, and the bright spot in the Force that was her mother winked out.

"No—!" Anneke clutched her mother's body to her chest as if she could bring her back through sheer will. The fire in her veins that had receded while speaking to Shmi came rushing back, hotter than before.

She sat still for a moment, her face buried in her mother's hair, then gently laid Shmi's body down, closed her eyes, and rose, calling her lightsaber to her hand, the blade casting a cold blue light over everything.

* * *

The first light of dawn hinted at an end to the night, and the camp began to stir. Anneke stepped through the door of the hut that had been her mother's prison, cutting down the guards before they saw her. An old woman had stepped out of a hut across the way to dump a pail; she froze, staring at Anneke, then screamed. It was an eerie sound, high and shrill, clawing up Anneke's spine to burrow in her skull.

As if summoned by the shriek, several Raiders appeared from between the huts, waving weapons and rushing at Anneke. She welcomed them, her heart a furnace burning through the walls of her Jedi training. She seized the Force in a fist of white-hot rage and blazed through her attackers without thought or hesitation.

A frantic, familiar voice echoed through the roaring in her ears: "No, Anneke! No! Don't! No!"

"Qui Gon?" she whispered. Her eyes focused: all around her, Tuskens lay broken—dead or dying—all around her. Not just the ones who had attacked her, either; the old woman who had screamed lay unmoving beside her empty bucket, and a smaller body—possibly around Anneke's age—stared at her from unseeing eyes.

Cowering before Anneke, a mother shielded a child with her own body. Their fear floated on the morning breeze like the smoke from the cookfires. As she paused, the mother caught her child up in her arms, and fled into the dunes.

A sudden trembling took hold of Anneke, and she fell to her knees, her lightsaber slipping from her grasp. The fire in her veins fled, to be replaced with ice. Teeth chattering, she wrapped her arms around herself. "What have I _done_?" she whispered.

* * *

"She's back!"

Padraig leapt to his feet at Owen's shout, rushing out the door on the other young man's heels. The speeder bike approached, Anneke easing up on the throttle as she neared. A body wrapped in rough grey cloth was strapped to the seat in front of her. Padraig's hand went to his mouth, and he choked back a gasp.

Beru brushed past him, and slipped her hand into Owen's. Cliegg's hoverchair paused between Padraig and Owen. Ignoring all of them, Anneke lifted the body from the bike and carried it to the house. Her face was streaked with tears and dirt, her eyes chips of cold blue fire.

Padraig reached out toward her as she passed, but stopped just short of touching her. A wall of pain and grief surrounded her, nearly visible to the eye. He let his hand fall and stood helplessly watching as she disappeared into the house.

* * *

Padraig hesitated at the door of the workshop. Anneke had been in there for hours. At first, he had let her alone, respecting her need for solitude, but now he could no longer stay away. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

Anneke stood at a workbench in the middle of the small cluttered room, tinkering with some kind of mechanical part. Her eyes flickered up as Padraig entered, then dropped back to her work. "The shifter broke." Her voice was rough. She took a shaky breath. "Life seems so much simpler when you're fixing things. I'm good at fixing things... always was. But I couldn't—" She broke off with a choked sob.

Padraig crossed the room and put a hand on her shoulder. "Sometimes there are things no one can fix. You're not all-powerful, Anni."

She slammed the broken pieces onto the bench, her hands clenched around them. "I should be! Someday I will be! I will be the most powerful Jedi ever! I promise you..." Her voice broke, trailing off into silence.

He tightened his grip on her shoulder. "Oh, Anneke…"

She snatched a tool from the workbench and flung it across the room. It hit the wall and fell clattering to the floor. She lifted her hands before her and stared at them as if she didn't recognize them. "I killed them," she whispered.

"Killed who?" When she didn't answer, Padraig gently turned her face toward him. "Killed who, Anni?"

Her eyes focused on him as if coming back from far away. "I was so _angry_. I slaughtered them like animals." She clutched her hands to her stomach, her gaze dropping to the floor. "They killed her, and I _hated_ them." Her voice faded to a whisper. "I don't _want_ to hate them…"

His heart dropped. No matter what they had done, he couldn't justify wholesale slaughter. But somewhere along the way, she had become more important to him than any number of other people, and she clearly regretted what she had done. He took her hands in his. "This is not who you are, Anni."

Her eyes snapped back up, intense and pleading. She shook her head savagely. "I'm a Jedi. I _know_ I'm better than this."

"You are." He pulled her into his arms, and she came willingly, clutching at him as she fell into his embrace. He traced circles on her back, murmuring soothing nonsense as she wept into his shoulder.


	11. Politics and Corruption

Anneke sat sprawled in the co-pilot seat of Padraig's ship, watching as a hologram of Obi Wan Kenobi appeared. She didn't want to deal with her master right now—she didn't want to deal with anything right now. A numbness had crept through her bones, a lethargy that gripped her soul, and she wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

"Anneke," Obi Wan's message began, "my long range transmitter has been knocked out. Retransmit this message to Coruscant."

Padraig reached over and pressed a button on the console that Anneke assumed would do what her master asked. She couldn't bring herself to sit up or ask.

Obi Wan continued, "I have tracked the bounty hunter Jango Fett to the droid foundries on Geonosis. The Trade Federation is to take delivery of a droid army here and it is clear that Viceroy Gunray is behind the assassination attempts on Senator Andelko."

A jolt went through Anneke. She had nearly forgotten about the assassination attempts. She sat forward, listening carefully. Padraig's safety was her main concern now.

"The Commerce Guilds and Corporate Alliance have both pledged their armies to Count Dooku and are forming a... Wait!... Wait!" Two destroyer droids appeared, attacking the hologram of Obi Wan, and the signal ended.

Anneke leapt to her feet. But before she could say or do anything, another hologram appeared: this time of Mace Windu. The Jedi Master leaned forward. "Anneke, we will deal with Count Dooku. The most important thing for you is to stay where you are. Protect the Senator at all costs. That is your first priority."

Anneke clenched her fists at her sides, her whole body tense, poised to fight or flee. "Yes, Master," she managed to say through her tight jaw.

The transmission from the Council ended, and Anneke let out her breath in a growl. She began to pace the tiny space behind the pilot and co-pilot chairs.

"They'll never get there in time to save him." Padraig's voice turned her head around. He was fiddling with something on the instrument panel. "They have to come halfway across the galaxy. Look: Obi Wan's message is originating on Geonosis. That's less than a parsec away from here."

She leaned over his shoulder to see the navigation readout, then frowned. He was starting up the ship's engines. "Padraig? What are you doing?"

"Master Windu gave you orders to protect me, and I'm going to save Obi Wan." He raised an eyebrow in challenge. "I guess you'll have to come along."

She stared at him, her throat tight. "Thank you," she whispered.

* * *

Geonosis felt almost familiar to Anneke: like Tatooine, it was dry and barren; though, where her home was painted in shades of brown and yellow, Geonosis was varying tones of red. To Anneke's confusion, they met no guards—or, really, anyone—as they entered a huge building that appeared to be carved from the natural rock formations, and made their way down an empty, echoing corridor lined with red stone pillars. The emptiness had her nerves on edge, but then when they had just passed the halfway point, she felt a threat from above.

She turned, her lightsaber in her hand, activating it as a winged creature attacked. Three more immediately followed, shrieking as they came. Her saber a whirl of blue light, Anneke cut them from the air. Padraig pulled a blaster and shot at their attackers, moving to the end of the hallway, and she followed, walking backward, watching for any further attacks.

They stepped through a doorway and found themselves on a metal bridge that ended inches in front of their feet. Turning to go back, Anneke discovered that the door had closed behind them, and it wouldn't open from this side. They were trapped.

The walkway began to retract into the wall under the door. Just perfect. Anneke caught Padraig's hand. "Jump!"

They landed on a moving conveyer taking them deeper into what looked like a kind of factory. More of the winged creatures darted at them, annoying yet persistent. Anneke had little trouble fighting them off, but now the conveyer was taking them over what appeared to be a bottomless pit under some large machines that were stamping down onto the moving surface, threatening to crush both of them.

Ducking under and leaping over these things while wielding her lightsaber was not easy. Anneke was forced to let go of Padraig's hand and hope that he was nimble enough to avoid the stampers. To her relief, he was—at least, until two winged creatures attacked him while Anneke was busy with several others. Taken by surprise, Padraig lost his pistol over the edge, wrestled with his attackers, then fell into a large empty vat that was instantly grabbed by a huge metal claw and carried away.

"Padraig!" Anneke viciously dispatched her assailants and ran after him. Not paying attention to her footing, she tripped on something and fell headlong, her lightsaber slipping from her grip. "Not again," she groaned, lunging after it. A large blade swung down, and she fell back just in time to avoid being cut in half, but her saber wasn't so lucky. The blade sliced through the hilt, cutting it in two. She sighed. "Obi Wan is _really_ going to kill me now."

Winged creatures surrounded her, and she was relieved to see Padraig when they pushed him into the circle with her. At least he was alive—for now. Then her stomach dropped when a familiar figure in armour with a jetpack on his back dropped down, a blaster held on them. It was the man who had killed the assassin Zam Wesell. To her relief, he simply held the blaster on them and said, "Don't move, Jedi!"

* * *

They were taken to a large, echoing room carved from the same red stone that seemed to make up everything on this planet. A white-haired man sat at the table, an aura of power around him that set Anneke's teeth on edge. She had heard of Count Dooku, the former Jedi who now led the Separatists, and this had to be him. There was something odd about his Force signature, though she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

Padraig stepped forward; coming to the same conclusion she had—or perhaps he had met Dooku before—he addressed the Count. "You are holding a Jedi Knight: Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am formally requesting you turn him over to me."

Anneke felt amusement from the Separatist leader, and something else: something… not quite right, yet somehow familiar. She frowned, trying to place where she had felt it before.

"He has been convicted of espionage," Dooku said placidly, "and will be executed. In just a few hours, I believe." He leaned back in his chair and smiled.

Executed! Before she could do or say anything, Padraig said, "You can't do that! He's an officer of the Republic!"

Dooku sighed. "We don't recognize the Republic here, Senator." He tapped his fingers on the table. "But..." he said thoughtfully, "if Naboo were to join our Alliance, I could easily hear your plea for clemency."

Padraig glared at him. "And if I don't join your rebellion, I assume we will also be convicted of espionage?" His voice was stiff with anger and disgust.

Dooku sighed again. "I don't wish to make you to join our cause against your will, Senator, but you are a rational, honest representative of your people and I assume you want to do what's in their best interests." He leaned forward, his eyes intense. "Aren't they fed up with the corruption, the bureaucrats, the hypocrisy of it all? Aren't _you_? Be honest, Senator."

"The ideals are still alive, even if the institution is failing," Padraig replied through gritted teeth.

Dooku stood, leaning forward, his palms flat on the table. "You believe in the same ideals we believe in!"

Anneke's attention wandered as they argued back and forth about politics and corruption. Padraig lived for this sort of thing, and his voice was passionate as he spoke, but Anneke was more interested in watching him than in what he was saying.

Her attention snapped back to the conversation when Dooku said, "Then you will betray your Jedi friends? Without your cooperation I can do nothing to stop their execution."

Seriously? Was _this_ how he was trying to convince Padraig to join him? Or had he simply given up? She opened her mouth to protest, but could think of nothing to say—or, at least, nothing helpful.

"And what about me?" Padraig demanded. "Am I to be executed also?"

Dooku waved his hand again. "I wouldn't think of such an offense." He leaned back and eyed Padraig through narrowed eyes. "But, there are... _individuals_ who have a strong interest in your demise, Senator. It has nothing to do with politics, I'm afraid; it's purely personal. And they have already paid great sums to have you assassinated. I'm sure they will push hard to have you included in the executions." His voice took on a faux tone of compassion. "I'm sorry but if you are not going to cooperate, I must turn you over to the Geonosians for justice. Without your cooperation, I've done all I can for you."

Justice! The Republic had its faults, but this was what the Separatists were setting up in its place? At least, under Republic rule, everyone was entitled to a trial before sentencing.

Dooku gestured to the armoured man who stood guard at the side of the room. "Take them away, Jango."


	12. Aggressive Negotiations

A Geonosian, its wings flapping, pushed Padraig into an open cart, roughly tying his hands to the short wall near the front. He craned his neck to see two more of them dragging an unresisting Anneke in beside him. She moved like a droid, expressionless, her eyes distant.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She turned her head slowly, as if coming out of a trance. Her eyes focused on his face. "For what?"

"It's my fault we're here—I insisted that we come." They should have let the Council take care of this.

As if she read his mind, she replied, "The Council isn't here yet. If we hadn't come, Master Obi Wan would still be here, sentenced to die." She shook her head. "I'm the one who's sorry. It's my job to protect you… and I failed."

"I'm not afraid to die." He smiled, a little shakily. "Anneke, there's something you should know—something I have to tell you."

Her intense, beautiful eyes searched his. "What is it?"

He took a breath, let it out slowly. "I love you."

She blinked. "You… I…"

He wanted to reach out, to touch her, but his hands were bound securely. "Before we die, I wanted you to know."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Padraig, I have loved you since that night on your ship when you gave me your jacket to ward off the chill, when you spoke to me, not as to a slave, but as to an equal, as to a friend."

He took a shaky breath. "Anni…"

She leaned toward him and he met her halfway. They were just able to touch their lips together. He closed his eyes, tears threatening to escape. Why had he waited so long to tell her?

* * *

The roar of the crowd assaulted Anneke's ears; for a moment, she was back on Tatooine at the podraces. But while the races would sometimes end in injury or death for some of the participants, the spectacle here was designed to end in death for all of them. She sensed Obi Wan's presence growing nearer as they entered the arena, then she could see him, chained to a pillar in the centre. The red stone column was one of four standing in a row, the chains on the others clinking against the stone in the hot, dry wind.

The Geonosians pulled Anneke and Padraig from the cart and chained them each to a post. Obi Wan watched, his eyes squinted against the blazing sun. "I was beginning to wonder if you had gotten my message," he said calmly.

Anneke shrugged. "We retransmitted it as you requested, Master. Then we decided to come and rescue you." Her voice was as calm as his, belying her fear.

Obi Wan shook his head and laughed. "Good job!"

An amplified voice boomed over the arena: "The felons before you have been convicted of espionage against the Sovereign System of Geonosis. Their sentence of death is to be carried out in this public arena."

Another roar went up from the crowd of winged spectators. Anneke turned to Obi Wan. "I've got a bad feeling about this," she said with a crooked grin.

He rolled his eyes.

The amplified voice soared over the arena again: "Let the executions begin!"

With a screeching of unoiled machinery, three gates in the walls opened, releasing three creatures from nightmare. Catching sight of the captives, they bore down on them, roaring and shrieking.

"Take the one on the right," Obi Wan said. "I've got the one on the left."

"What about—" Anneke turned toward Padraig, and broke off. He had gotten out of the cuffs already and was using the chain to climb the pillar. What did they teach politicians on Naboo, anyway?

She was still staring at Padraig, when she sensed imminent danger. She leapt into the air just as the largest of the creatures reached her. It hit the pillar where she had been standing, its heavy horns clanging against the stone. Twisting in midair, she landed lightly astride its shoulders and wrapped her chain around its horns. It backed away, shaking its head, and the chain tore free of the pillar. Turning much tighter than such a large, heavy beast should be able to, it bucked. And bucked again.

Anneke held on with everything she had as her mount ran in twisting patterns around the arena, doing its best to throw her off. Reaching out with the Force, she sent calming waves at it, and it began to slow. She pushed a desire to help her into the beast's mind and, to her delight, it responded. With her touch and her mind, she turned it around and headed back toward the pillars.

Obi Wan was battling a huge, armoured, buglike creature on the other side of the arena while Padraig stood precariously on top of a pillar, using his chain like a whip against a sleek, furred beast that leapt again and again, snapping rows of serrated teeth.

Anneke guided her mount alongside Padraig's pillar. "Jump!" she called.

He leapt, landing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She resisted the temptation to lean back into his chest, urging her mount onward. The furred beast gave chase, but Anneke ignored it. Obi Wan looked to be winning his fight, but how long would the Trade Federation and the Geonosians stand for that? She rode up next to her master, and he vaulted on behind Padraig.

The rolling rumble of destroyer droids echoed through the arena. Anneke turned her mount to face them, but they fanned out in a circle, uncurling and pointing their weapons at the Jedi. They were surrounded. Anneke lifted one hand from the beast's neck and covered one of Padraig's hands where it rested on her stomach, lacing her fingers through his.

Something tickled at her senses, and she lifted her head. She had been so focused on the battle, on protecting Padraig, and helping Obi Wan, she had missed the approach of hundreds of powerful Force signatures. Padraig gasped in her ear as lightsabers ignited all through the stands around them.

The clanking and screeching of the gates opening drew her eyes back to the walls. Waves of battle droids poured into the arena. Several Jedi leapt from the stands to engage them; two of them tossing lightsabers to Obi Wan and Anneke as they passed.

Spooked by the blaster bolts flying all around, the beast shook off Anneke's influence and threw the three of them unceremoniously into the dust, then charged around the arena, trampling droids and Jedi indiscriminately.

Anneke picked herself up and stood back to back with Obi Wan, blocking blaster bolts. Padraig snatched up a pistol from a fallen Geonosian and made the third point of a triangle with them, firing unerringly into the fray, hitting a droid with every shot. Anneke made a mental note to ask Padraig where a Naboo politician learned marksmanship—not to mention lockpicking.

"Aggressive negotiations?" Padraig shouted over his shoulder, and Anneke burst out laughing. Obi Wan raised an eyebrow at them, and Anneke just shook her head, grinning.

* * *

Padraig had lost count of how many times today he had thought he was about to die. Each time, he had been given reason to hope again, but now it looked very grim. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Anneke, Obi Wan, and Mace Windu, with about twenty Jedi, in the centre of the arena. They were surrounded by hundreds—or maybe thousands—of battle droids. The sand was littered with the dead or injured bodies of Geonosians and Jedi, scattered among broken droids.

For some reason, the remaining droids had stopped firing, and were merely holding their blasters on the defenders. Then Count Dooku's voice came through the hot, dry air from a balcony in the stands, "Master Windu! You have fought gallantly. Worthy of recognition in the history archives of the Jedi Order. Now it is finished. Surrender—" He paused dramatically. "—and your lives will be spared."

Padraig glanced to his right where Master Windu stood, his lightsaber casting a purplish glow over his dark skin. "We will not be hostages for you to barter with, Dooku," Mace declared.

The Count dipped his head. "Then, I'm sorry, old friend." He raised a hand, and the droids stepped forward.

A hand slipped into Padraig's, and he turned to meet Anneke's eyes. He could think of nothing to say.

Anneke's head whipped around just before the roar of several large engines reached Padraig's ears. Six huge gunships soared over the stadium walls, and came down into the arena around the survivors, hundreds of armoured soldiers leaping to the sand as soon as they were low enough.

"Circle the Jedi," a familiar voice ordered from the nearest ship. Padraig was stunned and delighted to see Master Yoda at the open door, waving the troopers on.

Mace Windu waved his arm toward the ships. "To the ships!" he cried. "Everyone onboard!"

Padraig, still hand-in-hand with Anneke, ran for the ships with her at his side. Against all odds, they had survived, and were still together. He allowed himself to hope once again.


	13. A Haze of Red

Anneke stood at the open side of a gunship, between Padraig and Obi Wan, watching the battle rage below. Where had Yoda found these troops? They were well-trained and disciplined, and already had the Trade Federation on the defensive. Spotting a familiar figure racing past on a speeder, she pointed. "There's Dooku!"

"Shoot him down!" Obi Wan ordered the gunship crew.

The captain shook his head. "We're out of ammunition, sir."

Anneke gritted her teeth. "Follow him, then!"

"We're going to need some help," Padraig said.

"There's no time," Obi Wan replied. "Anneke and I can handle this."

The ship took a hit and lurched, nearly knocking Anneke off her feet. She grabbed the edge of the bulkhead above her, and held on. Padraig lost his balance and fell against a trooper, knocking them both flying through the opening and out of the ship. Anneke leaned forward to see them rolling across the ground below. Her heart dropped. "Padraig!"

To her relief, Padraig got to his feet, with the help of the trooper, and they both appeared to be unharmed. She opened her mouth to demand they turn around, to go back for Padraig, but stopped herself, biting her lip hard until it hurt. Padraig had proven that he could take of himself, and she would have to trust that he would do so again—stopping Dooku would remove a large part of the threat against him. She clenched her fingers on the bulkhead until her knuckles turned white. They couldn't let Dooku escape and, no matter what she felt, she had to do her duty. Swallowing hard, she turned back and met Obi Wan's thoughtful, questioning stare. She quickly looked away. Sometimes, like now, she wished her master wasn't quite so perceptive. He would never approve of her feelings for Padraig; he was too much of a rule-follower.

Dooku dismounted at a platform that led inside a tower of the omnipresent red stone. Seconds later, Anneke and Obi Wan leapt from the gunship to the platform, and followed him inside at a run. An interstellar ship lay parked on the far side of a large open space, and Dooku was at a control panel, throwing switches. If they let him take off, they might never catch him.

Obi Wan was saying something about strategy, but Anneke barely heard. Activating her borrowed lightsaber, she rushed the Count. Obi Wan's frustrated shout followed her: "Anneke!"

The fire from before was there at the edge of her awareness, roaring in her ears, eager to rage through her veins again. But there was something wrong. Dooku wasn't lifting a hand to defend himself, wasn't trying to evade her; he merely stood there, a small smile on his lips.

She pushed the blinding blaze away, and slowed her headlong rush, reaching out with her senses. The feeling of wrongness in Dooku's Force presence had strengthened. And she remembered where she had felt that before. Five years ago, on Naboo—the Sith who had killed Qui Gon had that same aura of dark energy.

The realization stopped her in her tracks. Dooku raised his hands, and a blast of crackling energy leapt across the space, struck her, and hurled her against the wall. Her vision went dark, and she couldn't move.

She had no idea how long she lay, her senses slowly returning. She could feel the battle raging between Obi Wan and Dooku; she could feel Obi Wan's growing desperation, and Dooku's amusement and triumph. She could feel Obi Wan's pain as Dooku's lightsaber caught him twice.

Then she felt her master fall. Gathering together all the threads of Force she could reach, she pushed herself to her feet and called her lightsaber to her hand. Obi Wan was on his knees, wounded, before Dooku. He had lost his lightsaber. As the Count lifted his bloodred blade to finish her master, Anneke took one giant step and she was across the room, the green blade of her borrowed saber arresting the downward sweep of the red.

Dooku's eyes flashed up to meet hers, surprised. "Brave," he said, "but foolish. I would have thought you had learned your lesson."

Anneke grinned, wrapping the threads of Force around herself. "I'm a slow learner." She pushed at him suddenly, and Dooku stumbled back, his eyes wide.

"You have unusual powers, young Padawan." Dooku stepped away from her as he regained his footing. "It won't be enough to save you, however."

"Anneke!" Obi Wan called, his lightsaber back in his hand. He tossed it to her, and she turned on Dooku, a glowing blade in either hand. Blue and green light washed over the Count's face, giving him the look of a corpse.

A sudden desire to make him the corpse he resembled exploded within her. Wild anger roared through her veins and she attacked without thought. He had nearly killed Padraig and Obi Wan! He deserved to die.

Dooku retreated before Anneke's onslaught, and a furious joy rose up in her heart. This would end here. But then he stopped and grinned at her, and all of a sudden, she was the one retreating. Fear rushed in to replace the raging fire. He had been playing with her, allowing her to believe she had a chance, but now he advanced steadily, driving her back step by step, until she could go no further—the wall was at her back.

She had lost her borrowed green blade at some point, and now frantically blocked Dooku's increasingly ferocious attacks with just the one Obi Wan had given her. Her arms ached with a bonedeep weariness, and she had to use both hands on the one hilt. Sweat slicked the grip, and her movements began to slow. She missed a block, and Dooku's blade came through, flashing red past her face, and shearing through her right arm at the elbow.

Pain exploded through her body and mind. She found herself on her knees, Obi Wan's horrified face watching her through a haze of red fog. His lips formed the word, "No," but she could hear nothing through the thunder in her ears. "I'm sorry," she tried to tell him, but her voice wouldn't work.

Her vision was closing in, the red haze fading to black.

_Padraig_…


	14. Shadows and Flame (Epilogue)

Shadows stretched across the terrace, reaching for Padraig as he stepped through the door. The sun was setting behind the mountains, reflecting gold and red in the waters of the lake, and silhouetting Anneke's cloaked form where she stood leaning on the balustrade. Padraig stopped, caught by the sight of her. Her beauty in the fading light took his breath away. He closed his eyes and thanked all the gods that she was here, that she was alive.

She had avoided him during the trip back to Naboo, and the journey had been torture. He had heard what had happened on Geonosis, how Yoda had found her and Obi Wan unconscious and rescued them just in time. He had heard that she had lost a hand. And yet, she had insisted on seeing him safely home.

Knowing she needed time to process everything, he had not sought her out until now. As he stepped forward, she turned toward him, her face in shadow, her hair afire with the last rays of the setting sun.

He quickly crossed the terrace to her side, and reached for her hands. She turned away, hiding her right arm in the black folds of her cloak. "Anneke," he said softly. "It's okay. I know."

She turned her face back to him, and her eyes were wet with tears. "But you haven't seen it—haven't touched it." She shook her head helplessly. "It's _cold_, Padraig. Cold and ugly and dead."

"No. It's part of you now. It's a reminder that you _lived_." He reached out again, and this time, she reluctantly gave him her hands. He lifted them both, brushing his lips across the smooth cool metal of her right hand, then across the warm knuckles of her left. "You are beautiful, Anni."

She shivered, and a smile played around the corners of her mouth.

He released her hands, and slid his arms around her waist. "I almost lost you, Anni. I almost lost you so many times." He swallowed hard. "I've never been so afraid."

She rested her hands on his shoulders. "I'm sorry."

He laughed, touching his forehead to hers. "I don't want you to apologise, Anni. I just want to know that I'll never lose you." He took a deep breath, then raised his head and looked into her eyes. "Marry me, Anneke."

Her eyes widened. "Padraig—"

"I know. Jedi aren't allowed to marry." He took another deep breath. "I've spoken to Chancellor Palpatine. He'll register the marriage without the Council's knowledge. They never have to know." He tightened his arms around her. "We don't know what tomorrow may bring, Anni. But I know I want to face it with you."

Her face was completely shadowed now; the sun had disappeared behind the mountains, leaving only a faint glow that was fast fading. "And I want that too," she said softly. "Yes, I'll marry you." She slid her hands behind his neck, her metal fingers now almost as warm as her skin, and pulled his head down for a kiss.

He closed his eyes, pulling her close. It was like embracing living flame.


End file.
